Page 31 of Head Room (Caught Dead in Wyoming #15)

At the top of the next manuscript section it read . . . wedding . . . Get historic details.

Wouldn’t it be nice if that’s all it took to put together a wedding.

Below that, it said, Have to do it fast so she has a place to live. Scene ends with her saying, “I do.” First words spoken. New scene: After the wedding, waiting for Maggie, who’s initially in another room with Polly. Preparing food?

Okay, if Maggie had to prepare the food for her own wedding, I’d pack away my envy and continue reading.

* * * *

“Isn’t it a shame now that the folks at Bellemont and Ashford Run couldn’t see their favorite getting married this day,” Viess said with dark pleasure.

Ransom maintained his silence, though he felt the slice of Peter’s wounded look, as well as a pain that came from inside himself.

Maybe at the reminder of Ashford Run, the place where his sister raised Peter . . . and Thomas. Expecting Thomas to continue their father’s family holding.

Bellemont was different. It belonged to the Witherfords, including Laidey — Adelaide — the eldest daughter. Most folks had thought he’d marry Laidey. Maybe he had, too.

Silence didn’t stop Stelmen Viess.

“You probably thought your wedding day would be a good deal different from this now, sir.” The last word came out with a sneer.

“To think they once talked of you someday being the master of Bellemont. A far cry from standing on those broad grand stairs taking your vows to this dirt-floored room in a godforsaken wilderness.”

“That shows how ignorant you are, Viess,” Peter burst out before Ransom could quell him with a look. “Weddings at Bellemont are always in the rose parlor, where the likes of you never set foot. But Ransom did. Ransom was there many a time.”

Viess narrowed his eyes at Peter’s words but didn’t turn his stare from Ransom.

“You’ll never set foot in it again, will you?”

He made the words a venomous croon. “That door’s shut tight on you. Barred and locked. They once thought you were a gentleman, but they’d know their mistake if they could see you. No gentleman now . . . sir.”

Ransom squeezed dry his anger in a fist of control.

Stelmen Viess was right on one account — Ransom Fletcher could no longer afford certain luxuries.

The luxury of anger, the indulgence of bloodying a cruel mouth.

He needed to show Peter and these other men how it would be from here on.

And he owed something to one other person who’d silently entered the room.

The still figure of the woman he’d just married.

She’d given no sign of having heard Viess’s words. He wondered if he imagined a notion that she’d grown tense.

“No, no gentleman, now, Stelmen,” Ransom agreed with as much good humor as he could summon. “But that’s the thing of it with the West. I have an idea that most any man can make a gentleman of himself out here — if he has the makings for such a thing at all.”

Others in the room eased, but Stelmen Viess didn’t miss the underlying message that he lacked those makings in Ransom’s view.

* * * *

My phone announced a message.

Tom.

He often messaged at night rather than call unless he knew I was awake, even though I was far more of a night owl than him. He was considerate that way.

Meeting over, he was on his way to the ranch, to get a painfully early start in the morning. His message said he’s connected with the vets and I should come to the ranch in the morning after dropping off Tamantha at the library.

I could have called him. He’d be driving a bit longer. It wasn’t like I’d keep him awake.

I didn’t.

Family history and potentially frazzled brides and grooms could wait until later.

I messaged back that all was well with Tamantha, I’d meet with him at the ranch house in the morning, and wished him a good night.

I began reading again.

* * * *

(Notes: Maggie makes female friend — young wife of an officer. Maggie wary, because ranks don’t usually mix, but the other woman is not constrained. And she’s lonely because other officers’ wives view her as useless . . . which she mostly is. But she knows it and wants to learn.)

“You don’t know how to mend—.” Maggie stopped herself, realizing how rude she was being. But officer’s wife wasn’t dismayed.

“Not an idea in the world,” she said cheerfully.

“But your husband—.” Maggie stopped that, too. Though she couldn’t stop wondering about how a woman could keep a husband from getting hitting angry without knowing how to do the most basic things to keep his life running.

“He knew well that the lady he was marrying knew nothing of such practicalities.”

Maggie didn’t even let the first of the words bubbling into her brain out this time.

“I suspect he rather liked the idea that I’m such a frivolous creature.” Shadows moved across her eyes. Then she looked at Maggie. “But this is not a frivolous place, is it, Mrs. Fletcher?”

Maggie considered that. “I don’t know any frivolous places, Ma’am, so I can’t be saying if this is one or not.”

Sympathy showed on the other woman’s face, but without the shrinking back from her that so often accompanied it.

“No, I don’t suppose you do. Would you rely on my much greater experience with frivolousness in taking my word for it that this is not a frivolous place?”

“Yes’m.”

The woman blinked and swallowed.

But Maggie had her own thoughts to untangle before she could tackle this strange creature’s words or actions.

“But then why’d you come here, if you’re frivolous and this place isn’t?” Belatedly, she recalled the relative ranks of their husbands, as well as their ranks in the world. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. I shouldn’t’ve—”

“No, no, it’s an excellent question, Maggie. A keen question.”

(Start Notes: She explains. She comes from a wealthy and social family. Her family objected to her choice of husband. She married him anyway. Her father got her husband sent West.

“My father thought this would send me scurrying home to him. As well, I’m certain, he thought to put (husband) in a position where his career would be stifled. But it won’t be, for I’m quite determined not only that I shall be with him every step of the way but that he shall end as a general!”

“I see.”

“Do you, Maggie? Do you see that in addition to being quite a frivolous, useless creature I am mercenary as well?”

“So that is why you married your husband? Because you were certain he would be a general someday?”

Suddenly serious, she said. “No, I married him because I realized that I didn’t care if he should ever become a general.

No, that’s not quite right — I do care. I should like him to become a general, and I should like to have nice things and ease once more.

But I would never trade any of that for my (husband).

Why did you marry your Ransom Fletcher?”

Maggie considered that. “Because he had traded horses for me.”

Eyes huge. “He traded horses for you?”

“Yes.” Wondering about her reaction. “To the Indians. To gain my freedom.”

Lets a breath out. “Oh. But . . . But did he make you feel you had to—? I find it hard to believe of him, but if he demanded that you marry him—”

“No.” Stops washing. Holds her head up. Proud. “No, he did not demand it as payment for the horses. He asked if I would marry him. And I said yes.”

They look at each other. Other woman sees more in her.

“I see.”

Maggie’s acceptance that she did, indeed, see. Gave them a common footing . . .

“And because Corporal Fletcher asked you to marry him, and you agreed, you now feel it your duty to work beside him, and carry his banner high.”

Could see that last phrase unsettled Maggie a little, like a new fence for a training horse not yet accustomed to a variety of jumps. But she cleared it.

“I suppose so.”

“Then I think you might understand . . .” The woman gathered in a breath and said the next words in a rush, “my resolution to no longer be entirely frivolous. For I am entirely resolute in that vow.”

But for all the momentousness expressing that sentiment had in her life, Maggie simply glanced at her and said, “That so, ma’am?”

“Yes, it is so,” she said with a surprising certainty for a vow she had allowed to take the firm shape of words only in these few moments. “And I am enlisting your aid, Mrs. Fletcher.”

Head comes up, hands stop.

Husband would be amazed if she told him that she had succeeded in halting Maggie Fletcher’s industriousness twice within so short a time.

(Note: They’ve had earlier conversations about her.)

“Me?”

(Note: . . . then makes Maggie an offer. Doing fine sewing for her and teaching her to sew herself, along with other practical skills. Officer’s wife teaches her social things. They help each other with figuring out the ways of the army and army wives.)

* * * *

There was a scene break, then notes about awkwardness between Maggie and Ransom. She’s barely talking around him, finding it more comfortable to be quiet most of the time. He tells her he won’t bother her, he’ll leave the bed to her. She doesn’t know what to make of that, but relaxes a tiny bit.

I wanted to find out—.

Then I saw the time.

The clock was really getting in the way of my reading.